


hiraeth

by dvntldr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Absent Parents, Abusive Parents, Child Abandonment, Child Neglect, Depression, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Fear of Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Parent Death, Past Child Abuse, References to Depression, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 01:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvntldr/pseuds/dvntldr
Summary: hiraeth(n.) a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.———“Old Aztec myths say that when you die, you turn to stars—watching over, and protecting your loved ones. The purest of souls become supergiants, neutron stars. And when I die, I’ll be the brightest star up there.”...“Don’t say that. Don’t say that you’re going to die.”...“Why? Are you scared?”





	hiraeth

It’s snowing.

The pitter-patter of feet reminds you of happier times as you turn around to watch your brother stumble up the hill. He’s clearly not made for the outdoors, but he still makes the effort to join you; you don’t know whether to feel irritated by the fact that this naïve, trusting little boy is intruding on the little you have left, or relieved that you’ve not been left alone again, the same way you’ve been most of your life.

Definitely the first one, you decide as he pushes his overly-large glasses further up the bridge of his nose in order to peer at you with eyes too wise for the seven years he’s lived. 

There’s a few tense moments of silence, the crackling tension palpable, as if you’re both waiting to see who gives in first. As stubborn as you are, you eventually crack after six straight minutes of heated glares and pointed stares.

“What do _ you _ want?” 

He ignores your question, glancing upwards. The moon isn’t full tonight, peeking out behind the wispy clouds that vaguely resemble shapes you only vaguely remember from your nightmares. Stars wink at you from where they’re sat on their pale thrones before flashing out of sight, and it’s enrapturing enough that you accidentally miss the first half of the kid’s reply.

“Old Aztec myths say that when you die, you turn to stars—watching over, and protecting your loved ones.” You ignore the pang of pure _ pain _ that comes from the last two words and level your “brother” with the most venomous glare you can muster—he stares back coolly, clearly unruffled by the clear threat.

“Oh yeah?” You say with a rough sneer, steadfastly ignoring the way your hands tremble and instead forcing them to curl into tight fists, refusing to wince as your nails bite into your palms. “Stars, huh?”

The child nods earnestly, tipping his head back again to stare at the sky—looking at his far-away, dreamy gaze, you abruptly wonder if he can see things you can’t. It wouldn’t surprise you, since everybody other than you seems to have talents you just can’t seem to measure up to no matter how hard you try. 

“Yes. The purest of souls become neutron stars, supergiants. And when I die, I’ll be the brightest star up there.”

This time, the chill that runs down your spine isn’t a warning. It’s an omen. 

“Don’t _ say _that.” You snap scathingly instead, jerkily folding your arms and refusing to look at the boy next to you. “Don’t say that you’re going to die.” You aren’t sure why you’re saying this—you don’t particularly care about what happens to him, you tell yourself firmly. There’s a soft snort, and your eyes reluctantly travel back to him. He’s smiling, off-putting and toothy; just wide enough to make it unsettling. 

“Why? Are you scared of death?”

There’s silence, and after a moment, the monster continues, smile widening. 

“I’ve seen them, you know. I know you’re scared.”

Immediately, your mind jumps to conclusion after conclusion at speeds so dizzying they actually give you a headache. What could he have found? Old suicide notes that’d ended up in the trash, tear-stained, torn-out diary entries that waxed poetic sorrow and guilt and told the story of a little boy who longed for nothing more than to be loved?

“You don’t know _ anything _,” You hiss, tone underlined with malice and practically dripping acid, but he doesn’t care, barrelling onwards with a child-like determination that you envy.

“We’re all going to die one day.” Your breath hitches, and you look down to see blood dripping sedately from the reddened half-moons that your nails had formed from how hard you’d been clenching your fists.

“I don’t want to be afraid of death.” 

Suddenly, the monster is gone, replaced by nothing more than a child, staring at you with unreadable eyes. 

“I don’t want to be like you.”

Unbidden tears hit the ground and melt away.

...right.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea why i wrote this, but it’s been sitting in my docs for literally ever and it’s time i posted it lmao :P  
tell me what you think in the comments and kudos is always appreciated!  
(and yes, ms lee, this is me LMAO)


End file.
